


three am

by worstgirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, implied deere and expensive headphones, let the kids be friends without making them wanna date 2k19, not a lot happens honestly, rich and jeremy being bros, the bmc boys share a house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 14:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstgirl/pseuds/worstgirl
Summary: “You too, huh?”...“D’you ever feel it? Like, you know it isn’t there, but you still think you feel it?”





	three am

There was darkness everywhere, swirling blackness that caught in his lungs and covered his eyes and slipped into his ears, and under it all, a familiar silky smooth voice.  _ You can’t just listen, you have to obey, you can’t get rid of me that easily, you’re a slob, you’re such a loser, you have to obey, obey, obey- _

It was glitching in his head as he fell to his knees, trying to block out the words by covering his ears, but it slid between his fingers and into his ears and he could still hear it, wheedling and enticing, trying to get him to do what it wanted him to. It was too loud, too intriguing, he couldn’t stop it. 

Jeremy woke up in a cold sweat, shaking and crying. Putting his head between his knees didn’t help all that much, but it made him feel a little claustrophobic. Not a good idea. He pushed himself up, thanking the lord that Jake was turned towards the wall instead of close by him, he didn’t want to wake him. 

Slipping out of bed, he winced at the cold floorboards of Jake’s room. Technically, he had his own bed down the hall, but sleeping with Jake usually made him feel better. Apparently, tonight it didn’t. 

Shuffling down the hallway, the only thing on Jeremy’s mind right now was getting some way to calm down. As he stumbled towards the kitchen, he saw the lights on, the stove clock reading 3:27 in bright red numbers. 

Rich looked over at him. He looked like shit— hair messy and falling over his eyes and ears. He’d grown it out a bit since high school, the red streak fading away. His hair didn’t cover up the bags under his eyes, or the slightly bloodshot look of someone who’d just been crying for a while. Jeremy probably didn’t look too much better, considering that he was still sniffling and trying to wipe his eyes. He felt like he was five years old. 

Rich didn’t say anything, just pulled out another mug. Michael had bought an electric kettle that only took five minutes to boil and didn’t “fucking whistle” at him while he was high, which meant that making tea at almost 4 in the morning wasn’t a totally bad idea that woke everyone else in the house. Jeremy reached up with shaky hands, bringing down a tea bag for himself and Rich. 

This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, waking up in the middle of the night to find one housemate or another awake as well, but it had been at least a few months since he’d had to do this with Rich. More often, it was Michael, overworking himself. They were silent, not speaking to each other, even their clinking of ceramic dishes muffled by the night. Finally, Rich broke the silence, dropping his tea bag into his mug. “You too, huh?” 

Jeremy nodded, blinking hard to push the tears away. This was stupid. He shouldn’t be crying. It was so pointless to cry, since it didn’t even matter in the long run whether or not he had nightmares. Crying just made his head and chest hurt. 

He was saved from having to respond vocally by the switch on the side of the kettle flipped up, and he poured their tea carefully, holding it with two hands to avoid spilling it or dropping it. Rich took his tea, tugging the string up and down as if to give his hands something to do. The only sound for a bit was the nearly silent noise the tea bag made as it broke the surface of the water. 

Jeremy stared at his own tea, the colour swirling out of the teabag and turning the water a rich dark brown. His tears were slowly drying, maybe not fast enough for his liking, but enough for him to feel less like a failure. “D’you ever…” He started, his voice choked. He cleared his throat and tried again, “D’you, um, feel the… shocking?” He almost used the term he knew-  _ spinal stimulation.  _ “Like, you know it isn’t there, but you still think you feel it?” 

There was silence for a bit longer. “Not exactly. But I know what you mean.” Rich said, his voice soft for once. He didn’t elaborate. Jeremy didn’t expect him to. He was never one for talking about feelings. Jeremy wasn’t either, except to Christine, Michael, occasionally Jake, and his therapist. 

They were quiet once more, sliding the sugar and milk over to one another in complete silence, before sitting across from each other. Jeremy still stirred his tea, not wanting to get up or move. It was still hot, as evidenced by Rich trying to drink it and burning his tongue. Jeremy’s lips tugged into a small smile at the face he made, as if the tea had personally offended him by smacking his grandma. 

If you had told Jeremy five years ago that he’d be sharing a house with Rich, Michael, and Jake, he’d tell you that you were insane. If you told him he’d be dating Jake Dillinger, he’d literally laugh in your face. Yet here he was, twenty two years old, sitting at their kitchen table with Rich after having a nightmare while sleeping in Jake’s bed.

“Do you ever think about how crazy this all is?” Rich asked, almost echoing his thoughts. “That we’re, y’know, friends. For real. Without a weird tic-tac thing in the way.” 

Jeremy looked up at him. Rich looked almost like his younger self, the first time they’d went out, just the two of them, to talk about the SQUIP. They’d gone to a coffee shop, about three weeks after they were released from the hospital, and Jeremy remembered their apologies and awkward jokes, trying to break the stifling anxiety. He realized he was still just watching Rich. “I mean- I’m dating one of the most popular boys from our grade, living with him, my best friend, and my old bully, and I don’t see much wrong with that. So, yeah, crazy.” He took a sip of tea, sighing softly. The silence stretched on for a little while longer, until Jeremy found himself asking the question he had been wondering. “Did you dream about… y’know?”

Rich nodded, staring at his tea like it was the most important thing ever, his hair flopping in front of his eyes. “When don’t I?” He said, a wry smile on his face. “It’s not like my other dreams are any better, anyways.”

They both knew that too well. They were more similar than either of them liked to admit. Their home life, their experiences, their preferences, their lives, all similar. Which may have been why they’d become such close friends.

“Yeah.” Jeremy said softly. For a while, the only sound was their sipping of tea, and Jeremy felt his eyes growing heavy. He ended up with his head on their kitchen table next to a half-drunk mug of tea, a blanket from the couch draped over his shoulders— probably Rich, or maybe Jake— and didn’t dream a single thing. 


End file.
